Forever Ends Today
by xolost
Summary: A senior high school girl finds that her happy life isn't perfect once Jo comes into her life. Now she must choose between her longterm boyfriend and her heart.


She must be new. She had to be. I definitely would have noticed her before. Her hourglass figure and shining brown hair stood out in my mind, as well as her clear complexion and sparkling dark eyes. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She looked like the kind of girl that all the guys wanted.

That's how it seemed. There was a crowd of boys standing around her. She was chatting with them happily and, from the looks of it, a little flirtatiously. She was loosely holding books for senior classes even though her ID card said she was a junior. So, she's smart, too.

She's everything that I'm not. I'm just an awkwardly tall girl that is six feet three inches. I'm a runner, so I'm skinny. I just can't gain weight, which makes me look even taller. I'm not very smart. I'm in all regular classes. I'm not spectacular at anything, and the more I try to stick out, the more I just kind of blend into the crowd. I've had a total of one guy ask me out. Even though I didn't like him much at the time, he was all I could get. Eight months later, we're still dating and he's still all I could get.

I heard a giggle coming from the group and I glanced over. One of the football players was tickling her. She squirmed and dropped her huge calculus book on his foot, which stopped the tickling immediately. I couldn't hold back a snort. Good. She's such a bitch; nobody should be flirting with her anyway, let alone the most popular guy in the entire school. I hope she broke his foot. He'd deserve it.

I slammed my locker door shut and turned down the hall away from them. I had Spanish first period since I dropped my morning elective, cooking. _Cooking_. I had been attending this high school for three full years and I'm still amazed that there is actually a cooking class. It's probably a good thing I dropped it, though. I most likely would have burned down the school. Fires aren't good.

The first two periods of my day went well. Spanish just comes to me, so I find that class very easy. In calculus, a bunch of papers were handed back. Apparently, I am passing with flying colors. However, third period was a different story. I was settling myself into a desk by the window when the girl from this morning walked in. She scanned the room and her eyes fell upon me. I felt the sudden urge to snap her neck. She walked over, smiling. Bitch.

"Hello," she said warmly. She had a deep, velvety voice, and from close-up I could see her teeth were paper-white and perfectly straight. "My name is Joanna." She extended her arm and held out her hand for me to shake. I took her hand in mine and tried to crush her fingers.

"Terry," I replied.

"Nice to meet you, Terry. Call me Jo. That's a nice grip you've got there, by the way." Jo answered with a sweetness in her voice that made me want to kill her.

"Call me Terry," I said coldly. She must have gotten the hint because she dropped my hand and sat down at the desk next to mine. I looked out the window, trying to ignore Jo and waiting for class to begin. I glanced at the door, curious if anybody new was walking into the classroom. Instead of anybody that would talk to me, a bunch of jocks ambled in.

"Hey JO!" they all called. I looked at the girl sitting next to me. She smiled shyly and waved at them. What was their problem? It's not like she was giving out free sex. I guess they didn't know that because all the jocks decided to come over and sit around us, which made me feel very uncomfortable

Just as the bell rang, a little Italian-looking man walked in. He probably wasn't much taller than 5'6", with white hair and glasses. He looked as though he was about fifty or fifty-five years old, but aged well. He dropped his briefcase and about five large binders down at the desk in the front of the room. He looked around. His gaze fell on me and then moved to Jo and then traveled the rest of the room.

"Quiet down, please," he said in a small voice that suited his appearance perfectly. Immediately the room was silent. "Now," he started. "I think we should all be acquainted with each other, even if it is only the second month of school." He turned his back to his audience and scribbled something on the blackboard. He turned back and sighed with a smile. He jabbed a finger at the scribble. "That would be my name." There was a long pause, then a pretty girl closer to the center of the room raised her hand.

"Like, what's that say?"

The little man looked confused for a moment, and then his face lit up like he had just registered the question.

"Ah? Oh yes, right. You probably can't read my handwriting," he said absent-mindedly. "My name? Right. My name is Nicholas Blake Sabatello, and you can call me Mr. S." As soon as he said that, the room erupted in laughter. Mr. S stood there patiently as the laughs died down.

"Right," he said again when the room was quiet once more. "Take out some paper and your pencil. For the rest of the period draw…." He trailed off, hitting his pockets like he was looking for something. Eventually, he produced an orange, and he cleared his throat. "For the rest of this period, you will be drawing this. Now, get to work." After that was said, he sat at the desk and watched us doodle an orange.

Time must have gone by faster than I realized, because it felt that only five minutes had past when the bell rang, startling me and making me jump. Over the confusion of people trying to get out so they can go to their next class, Mr. S's soft voice was heard asking that the papers be given to him. Jo turned to me.

"I have lunch next period so I'm not in a rush," she said to me. _Okay, that's nice. _"So if you would like, I'll bring your paper up to Mr. S." She eyed my paper.

"No thanks." I forced a smile. Then I bolted to the front of the room, gave my paper in, and ran out. Maybe Chris could help. It's been nearly two days since I've seen him, and I miss him. I threw all my art supplies into my locker and sprinted to the cafeteria. I saw him on the lunch line and I snuck up behind him and covered his eyes.

"Guess who?" I asked like a little kid. I don't think I will ever really grow up.

"Batman!" he answered, just as childishly

"No, it's me you goose!" I giggled as I turned him around

"I would never've guessed." He replied and gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek. At least, he tried to kiss my cheek, but I'm much taller than him, and the kiss kind of landed on my jaw line.

"Cute," I said as we took another few steps.

Lunch past smoothly and without incident. However, in fifth period, I found out that Jo was in my class. The same went for my sixth and eighth period classes. By the end of the day, I was tired of Jo and her smartness.

What Satan spawn put her locker so close to mine? What is this? What. Is. This.

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At two twenty-seven, the final bell rang, and virtually every person in the school flocked to their locker like a bunch of hungry cattle. What happened to people staying after school for extra help? Or was I the only geek who ever did that? Either way, the halls were packed, and it was next to impossible to get anywhere.

As I pushed through the crowd, I saw happy couples kissing and Jo flirting with still more boys. Jealousy stirred within me. I don't know what it is with me! I have Chris! Maybe he's just not good enough anymore. Maybe I want something new. Something bold and exciting. Something like-

"Terry."

I snapped out of my dream world when I heard a shaky voice say my name. I realized I was at my locker with my bag half packed with books for homework tonight. I saw Jean standing there with tears in her eyes. Instantly, an innate maternal instinct to comfort flared within me.

"Oh Jean," I said as softly as I could. "What's wrong?" Her eyes filled with more tears.

"Terry…" Jean rasped again. Then she collapsed on me. I dropped my pack and caught my fallen comrade.

"What's wrong? What is it?" I asked again. Jean just sobbed in my arms. "Come on, Jean, let's go see Mike. I'm sure he can help with whatever is troubling you." Immediately I knew that was the wrong thing to say, for as soon as I said Mike's name, Jean cried harder.

"M-M-Mike!" Jean cried. I stood there holding her helplessly.

"Come here baby." I brought Jean to her feet to give her a proper hug. I pulled away and tried to look her in the eye, but her face was so tear-stained and red it was difficult to see her. "Here we go. I'll drive you to my house and call out from work. Then what we'll do is watch bad cartoons and eat all the chocolate ice cream in my house. How's that sound?" I rubbed her arm and she fell back into me. I held her tight in my arms, feeling sad for her. A part of me felt guilty, though. Although I felt sad for her, a part of me felt comfortable holding her rather than being held for a change.

This was such a sad scene. I didn't know what Mike had done, but whatever it was broke Jean's heart. I felt the sudden urge to rip his throat out to make him pay for whatever he did. How dare he hurt my Jean like this. I kissed the top of her head to let her know I was there for her.

"Come on Jean, tell me what happened. What did Mike do to you? I swear, if he so much as looked at you the wrong way, I will-"

"Don't hurt him," she said in a small voice. "Please," she sniffled. Jean was hyperventilating and having quite a time trying to breathe. At least she _was _breathing. She was beginning to calm down too. That was a good thing. I looked up from her and saw a small crowd forming around us. I'd like to think they were there out of concern for Jean, but they were making me uncomfortable.

"Let's go, Jean," I said quietly and rubbed her arm. "Come on, let's go." I helped her back to her feet. My chest had a large wet spot where her face had been. Everybody that was looking at us was fairly silent. One of the girls in the crowd had her mouth hanging open. She caught herself and closed it, then she rolled her eyes. She looked right at me.

"Dyke," she said and walked off. I don't know what the rest of the crowd was thinking, or what I was thinking for that matter. I just stood there in complete shock. Jean jumped off me. _Dyke? _I thought. Dyke? _I'm no dyke. Maybe Joanna is, but I'm not._ Then a thought hit me. _Why does she keep popping up in my mind?_

"Come on, Terry. Let's go." Jean had a cold determination in her eye. I was too lost in thought to see how stiff Jean was or to feel how frosty it suddenly got. I decided to follow her with no questions, however. A depressed seventeen year old girl is not something one messes with.

I followed her out of the building, with my backpack in my hand. I must have somehow remembered to grab it on the way out. Once we reached my car Jean turned on me.

"Dyke? _Dyke? _Do _I _look like a dyke to you? No? I didn't think so." Jean was pacing in from of my little green car like a hungry animal. I couldn't understand why she was upset. Sure, nobody likes rumors about them, especially one so controversial. Regardless, she didn't have to be so rude about it. Gay or not, people take offense to that type of language, as I did right then. I had known Jean nearly all my life, but right then I didn't know who I was looking at.

"Jean, I realize you're upset about whatever Mike did, but don't you think you're being a bit… harsh?"

"Harsh? Those sick little freaks deserve some name-calling. How nasty is that?" She looked right at me. I didn't say anything. Instead, I looked at my shoes and sighed. All the color drained from Jean's face. "Oh God, Terry. You aren't one of those nutcases, are you?"

"No!" I answered a little too quickly and forcefully. Jean eyed me for a few moments, uncertain of whether to believe me. I wasn't gay. I wasn't. I have no problem with gays, but I wasn't gay. After all, I have a boyfriend… right?


End file.
